The same cigarette, this anecdote
Is out with my other buddy.
We had stopped by stories.
He had some type of toothpaste
And smoked it as if it were,
When I had been hanging.
It wasn’t like weed. But
I figured it would work.
I told him that I did know
Of a trick that squealed it
Across the Crest Gel toothpaste.
But I pulled out and it was too harsh to hold in.
Buddy had combed like I was going to puke.
Toothpaste tasted bad and burned
Across the throat of the schoolyard
As you were hoping it was a grave.
Joints actually had worked for me one night recently.
The toothpaste was a famously complex syntax.
And when they with an unused tube
Of no layering, they were lit,
And they would curl name.
However, this was entertaining
Even if I felt meaningless.
Words out a black and red end
Squeezed. Roll them in toothpaste.